The Consolation Prize (Brides of Karadok #3) - Alice Coldbreath Page 0,60

the tower. A miserable worm like Henry would never even make the attempt. He disdained archery, riding, wrestling, and swordplay. Henry would only ever sit bent over his books and his music on even the sunniest of days.”

Una pursed her lips. “Not everyone has the aptitude for outdoor pursuits,” she pointed out mildly. “That is no reason to despise your older brother, any more than he should look down on you for enjoying more physical occupations.”

Armand was startled. “Well,” he rallied, “he certainly did look down his nose at me for my neglect of book learning, so I suppose we were even with one another.”

“Did your parents never attempt to encourage some accord between you?” Una asked, as they came to a halt before the ruin.

Armand shook his head ruefully. “I was my mother’s favorite,” he admitted. “I think I mentioned it before?” Una nodded. “She lauded my every accomplishment and lambasted Henry as a poor dog by comparison.” He shrugged. “Now I am older, I see of course, poor Henry must have squirmed, but at the time I reveled in it.”

He hesitated. “Henry sought my father’s approval, I think, but Father was often from home, and even when he was there, he did not seem very interested in any of us. His heir was no exception.” He took a deep breath. “But likely he has my father’s attention now, for they live under the same roof together and my mother is long since dead.” He shrugged. “In any case, it’s all water under the bridge.”

“How much older is Henry than you?”

“Some five years.”

“So, he is a young man still.”

“He must be five and thirty now,” Armand replied. “But Henry has never seemed young. He married a widow from Great Derring, which just added to his old-womanish ways. She was in her mid-forties when he met her, and she has at least a good ten years on him, if not more.”

Una nodded. “And who is your younger brother more like? You or Henry?”

“Roger?” Armand considered. “I scarcely know. He was so much younger than the rest of us, and I had gone away to squire, while he was still in leading strings. Still,” his frown cleared. “He was studying for the priesthood last time I heard, so we can hardly be kindred spirits.”

They had walked about the ruin now and were contemplating the winding staircase that was exposed to their gaze, for a good deal of the outer wall of the tower had worn away. Funnily enough, Abelard chose this moment to show some independence of mind and trotted over to it sniffing at the bottom step. Una called him away.

“It does look dangerous,” she admitted as the dog returned to her. “Did you really climb it? Right to the top?”

Armand nodded. “And waved my hat out of the window to prove the feat. My godfather whipped me soundly afterward with a switch.”

Una shivered. “He was probably a good deal frightened. That top chamber looks balanced so perilously up there. One day it will probably come crashing to the ground.”

Armand murmured in agreement, looking up. “Aye, more than likely. That’s why it’s best if you stay away from this spot altogether.”

*

After they had returned to the house, Una set about viewing the rooms and making her plans, while Rose and Abelard trailed after her, the very picture of two faithful companions.

Otho returned from the village with a strapping laborer called Peter, who didn’t have much to say for himself but had plenty of muscles. Armand was in the stable seeing to his horse, when Otho confronted him with a rather defiant air. “He can start right away, and we don’t need to put him up at the house for he lives in the village with his widowed mother.”

Armand glanced the bashful lad over. Peter hung back in the shadows, as if embarrassed by his own size. He looked no more than one and twenty at the most. “If you think he’s suitable, then set him to work,” he answered with a touch of impatience, for he was brushing down Arturo who expected a good deal more attention than he had received the previous day. “I put you in charge of the hiring, Otho.”

“I can help out in the stables too,” Peter piped up unexpectedly. “My father was a blacksmith, so I’m used to being around horses.”

Armand glanced up. “Well, then that’s fine,” he said, directing a look at Otho. “Well done.”

Otho’s face relaxed and he sent Peter outside to start